


In the Time of Dragons

by alpacasandravens



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Dragon!, Knight!Bruce, Knights and Dragons AU, M/M, Meet-Cute, but he's not soft, but with lots of elements of st george and the dragon, featuring a vague reworking of the no man's land setting, inspired by beowulf, pre-spray jeremiah, the identity of the dragon is a spoiler, this probably counts as a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacasandravens/pseuds/alpacasandravens
Summary: Bruce Wayne, knight of Gotham, can't figure out how a dragon got into his city. Or why it keeps laughing, a manic laugh he hasn't heard since the death of Jerome Valeska. And apparently Jerome has a brother?Also known as the season 4b au with knights and dragons that nobody asked for but I wrote anyways.





	In the Time of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the title is from the Merlin episode title Love in the Time of Dragons. no im not sorry. I 100% blame my professor who assigned Beowulf this weekend for this.  
> also just to clear this up: this is in just as ambiguous of a time period as the show is, except there's no guns.

In a time that was not so long ago and a land that was not so far away, there was a kingdom called Gotham. Gotham had once been a mighty and powerful kingdom, but it had fallen into ruin after its king and queen had been murdered. In ten years, the throne had changed hands nearly as many times, each new monarch disposed of on their first attempt to curb the insanity that ran rampant through Gotham’s capital. Once a proud city, now blocks of Gotham stood filled with burned, empty husks of skyscrapers and the jagged metal frames of buildings. 

Bruce Wayne, knight of Gotham, trained for years to fight the evil in his city. By the time he was eighteen, his skills as a swordsman were renowned throughout the kingdom. Through his efforts, he and the knights of the GCPD had taken down the gruesome Riddle Factory and freed hundreds of citizens from the terror of the Scarecrow. Arkham’s halls had begun to fill with the criminals of Gotham.

Just as they thought they were beginning to restore Gotham, rumors started coming into the precinct of a new terror to their kingdom. At first it had been small things: reports of fires near the fairgrounds no gang would claim as their own. Homeless in the park below Gotham Bridge seeing flashes of red in the woods, hearing malevolent hissing. 

One night, a dragon perched atop the Iceberg Lounge and blew a column of fire into the air, issuing a challenge to the ruined city. Gotham did not answer.

 

Bruce Wayne sat in his study at the mostly-abandoned Wayne Manor, carefully building a plan. The dragon was dangerous, yes, but no more so than the city’s thriving trade in hallucinogenic mushrooms. He could only solve one problem at a time. He pored over blueprints of the greenhouse Ivy Pepper had taken over, trying to find a way for him and the GCPD to capture her while in her own territory. After all, she never left, and sneaking up on her was impossible due to her affinity with plants.

A knock at the door.

“Master Wayne, Captain Gordon is here to see you,” Alfred said from the doorway.

“Hi Bruce,” Jim Gordon said, walking into the room. “What are you working on?”

Jim looked tired. His suit was immaculate as always, but the bags under his eyes and disarray of his hair showed he had been sacrificing sleep in favor of work.

“I was hoping to find a weakness in Ivy’s hideout,” Bruce responded. “So far I have found nothing. Captain Gordon, I assume you have some urgent news for me that compelled you to leave the precinct?”

One corner of Jim’s mouth turned up in what could have been an affectionate smile. “Always straight to the point, aren’t you Bruce?”

Bruce did not smile. He respected Captain Gordon, but he saw no reason to engage in useless pleasantries when every moment was vital. He could remember a time when he was able to laugh, to let his guard down, but the memories were so distant they might as well have belonged to someone else.

“Last night, the dragon reappeared. It burned down Wayne Plaza. No one was hurt, but the whole block is gone.” Jim sighed. “People nearby are saying it laughed as it watched the fire.”

Bruce felt himself beginning to become less rational, felt the loss of Wayne Plaza, one of the last remnants of his parents’ time on the throne. Every day, Gotham slipped farther from that golden age. Every day, Bruce remembered them less.

“It laughed?” Bruce asked.

Jim nodded. 

“Do we know who it’s working for? Any possible motive?” 

“As of now, we can safely assume the dragon is a free agent. Penguin wouldn’t do anything so openly hostile, and none of the other gangs are powerful enough to safely attack like this without fear of retaliation. So far, we can’t think of a motive aside from sheer destruction.”

“You know who laughing at destruction reminds me of,” Bruce said. It had been years since the Maniax had terrorized Gotham with their particular brand of insanity, but he still had the scar on his throat to remember them by.

Jim put a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “He’s dead, Bruce. Jerome is dead. Besides,” he added as an afterthought, “I have no idea how he would get his hands on a dragon.”

 

Bruce had tried to throw himself back into his work on stopping Ivy, with little success. Ignoring the dragon was one thing when it just existed, hiding out somewhere no one could find. Now though, it had destroyed a major Gotham landmark. One that Bruce owned. 

Jim had asked him not to run off after the dragon. To wait and let the GCPD handle it. Something in Bruce recoiled at that, at being asked to stay behind yet again because he was too young, or because he would be king one day. (He did not want to be king. What good would sitting on a throne legislating do when the past decade had proven how easily the mob could have any ruler removed? He would be a puppet at best, and he would much rather fight.)

A cold wind blew on Bruce, messing up the papers on his desk.

“Selina.”

“Bruce.” She said his name like she was noting his presence, like she hadn’t just broken into his home to see him. “So Gotham has dragons now.”

“I’ve heard.”

Selina lay down on the couch and hooked her knees over the armrest. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to find a dragon. Then I found out they didn’t exist.”

“I guess today’s your lucky day,” Bruce said.

“Seriously though Bruce,” she said, “don’t you think it’s weird? A dragon just showing up in Gotham when no one has seen one in hundreds of years?”

Bruce shrugged. “Lots of things are weird in Gotham.”

Selina hummed in agreement.

Bruce kept staring at the greenhouse plans, though he wasn’t really seeing them. Selina was here for a reason, but he knew that unlike with Captain Gordon, asking her would only offend her.

“Did you ever hear the story of the weird doomsday prepper guy with the bunker in the woods?” Selina asked.

“Should I have?”

Selina slowly kicked her feet back and forth where they hung over the armrest. “Anyway, supposedly there’s this guy who lives in the forest out past the edge of the city. No one’s ever seen him, but sometimes kids I know see a blond lady head out there with, like, food and stuff.”

Bruce nodded, unsure of where this was going or why Selina had dropped by to tell him this.

“So earlier today,” Selina continued, her voice just a bit too level. Bruce recognized that voice. It was the one she used when she was excited about something but wanted to pretend she was bored. “I heard a guy tell Barbara he was Jerome’s brother.”

“Jerome has a brother?”

“Apparently.”

“And you said he has a bunker?” Bruce asked slowly. If Jerome was dead, he couldn’t be controlling the dragon. But if he had a brother, he might not have been wrong when he assumed it was under the control of a Valeska.

“Yup,” Selina said, popping the ‘p’.

“Do you want to go find him?”

She sat up fast. “Absolutely.”

 

Jeremiah opened his eyes. The light was dim, which he was thankful for before he realized what that meant. Instead of blue fluorescents reflecting off the concrete walls of his bunker, yellow light cast shadows across streaky white paint of a rectangular room. Where was he?

Confused, he looked around the room. Whatever this had once been, nothing remained but the walls, a ratty dark blue carpet, and a solitary window with bars over it. When he tried to stand up to look outside, his wrists caught against some sort of binding. Tugging on it, he realized it was a cable tie. How had he gotten here?

Then he remembered: Ecco, carrying a bag of groceries and smiling at the security camera outside the bunker. Him, buzzing her in, ignoring the suspicious shadow lurking in the corner because surely Ecco would have taken care of it if it was anything other than a computer glitch. That shadow resolving itself into the shape of a man with a top hat as it walked through the open bunker door. 

He remembered how he’d felt when Ecco had walked in, set down her groceries, and advanced toward him, still smiling. Not afraid. He’d lived his whole life afraid: of Jerome, of the world, of himself. He’d sighed, resigned, as the hypnotist appeared in the doorway, pocket watch ticking. His last thought before Ecco slammed his head into the wall was that he always knew Jerome would find him, eventually.

Now, Jeremiah knew where he was. He could only see the inside of this room, but he knew there was only one place Jerome would take him. He was inside of the trailer they had shared with their mother as children, only this time he wouldn’t be able to escape. 

 

Jeremiah had finally pushed himself into a sitting position, though he couldn’t find anything to break the cable ties on his wrists, when the voice came.

“Jeremiah!” It wasn’t the high-pitched tone he remembered from their childhood, and it didn’t quite match the low singsong voice all of Gotham had heard echo through the streets in years past. Yet it was still recognizably Jerome, the words twisted by a leering, sadistic insanity. “Brother dear. You are in there, aren’t you?” 

“What do you want from me?” 

Jeremiah had very much hoped to never see his brother again after he left the circus. It was hard to build a life and a career for himself with the shadow of a homicidal brother hanging over him.

“I only want to see my brother.” He could almost hear Jerome’s smile as he toyed with him in the same way they had – Jerome had toyed with neighborhood cats as a child. Letting them think they could escape when their fate was already sealed. “It has been such a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Jeremiah muttered.

Jerome gasped as if in shock. “What was that? I’m hurt.”

“Just let me go.”

“Now, you know I can’t do that. We have so much catching up to do!”

“If you’re going to kill me, can you just do it already?” Jeremiah sighed. Jerome hadn’t even come inside the trailer yet, which was weird. Normally, Jerome wouldn’t pass up any opportunity to be as melodramatic as possible. 

“I’m not going to kill you!” Jerome said, pretending to be offended. “We’re flesh and blood! Killing you would be like killing me, and we both know that didn’t stick in the end.”

Jeremiah was surprised Jerome didn’t plan to kill him. He’d always assumed his brother blamed him for leaving the circus, wanted him dead for pinning everything they’d done on him and leaving him with their mother and Uncle Zach. If their situations were reversed, it’s what he’d want.

“We are nothing alike.”

“I’m going to offer you a choice,” Jerome said. “Gotham is mine. Will you tear it down with me, or will I have to lock you somewhere more secure?” As he spoke, a shadow fell over the room. Looking in from the window was a huge green eye surrounded by red scales. 

“Whaddya say, brother?” The dragon asked, smoke curling from its nostrils and mouth turned up in what was unmistakably a smile. “Let’s have a little fun.”

 

The trees grew closer together the closer Selina and Bruce got to the rumored hideout of the second Valeska. Though it was only late afternoon, the woods seemed cast in a perpetual dusk. Branches seemed to curl together, sending a silent but clear message: stay away.

Ignoring the way the ground itself seemed to try and trip him up, Bruce pushed further. Before long, he spotted a small, square building in the middle of what could generously be called a clearing. 

“There it is,” Selina said, pointing. “What’s the plan?”

“Go in. Find out if he is controlling the dragon and if so,” Bruce motioned to the sword strapped to his back, “stop him.”

Selina rolled her eyes. “How detailed.”

As it turned out, Bruce’s (lack of) a plan was unnecessary. On the other side of the structure, a door swung listlessly open, revealing a grimy concrete staircase. Pine straw and loose leaves had blown in from the outside, giving it the impression of something long abandoned. The only sign of modernity was the security camera on the roof, though the absence of a red light by the lens revealed it, too, was nonfunctional.

“You’re sure this is the place?” Bruce asked.

Selina shrugged. “I’m sure it’s in this area, and I didn’t see any other evil-genius lairs around.”

Bruce had just opened his mouth to suggest they make a new plan when a faraway roar came from behind them.

“That came from Gotham, didn’t it?” Selina asked, resigned.

Bruce could only nod.

 

Jeremiah sat in the trailer, weighing Jerome’s proposal. If he went with his brother, he would have a much better chance of escaping. He could try to contain the damage to a section of the city that needed rebuilding anyway. He also had a much higher chance of Jerome killing or severely injuring him, either accidentally or on purpose.

Putting it that way, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“What kind of fun were you thinking of?”

“It’s time to raise a little hell. Gotham’s gotten too boring recently. You know, back when I ran with the Maniax,” Jerome paused to snort indignantly, as though he couldn’t believe he had ever worked for Galavan, “there was a gang war practically every day! The more this city falls apart, the less indiscriminate violence in the streets. It’s tragic.”

“That’s your plan? Just go out and kill some people?” Jeremiah couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Even all these years later, and Jerome still had no vision.

A small flame flickered from Jerome’s snout into the trailer, just hot enough for Jeremiah to understand exactly how dead he would be if Jerome were to ever turn that fire on him. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Jeremiah shrugged as best he was able with his wrists still tightly bound behind him. “That always was your thing, wasn’t it?” He asked, contempt dripping from his voice. “Cutting the rats’ tails off just to see them squirm.”

“Just because I enjoy the show doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on behind the scenes,” Jerome smiled. “For every act of senseless chaos Barbara didn’t know about, that Penguin can’t control, the people lose trust in them. It’s time to give Gotham back to the people. And I know just where to start.”

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. “You mean Wayne Plaza wasn’t a start?”

Jerome laughed, long and low. “Wayne Plaza was my way of saying thank you. What better gift to give the person who destroyed your childhood than the destruction of their pride and joy? I know how hard you worked on designing that, Miah. It’s only fair. You leaving me allowed me to become this. I was just returning the favor.”

He had suspected as much when he heard news of the plaza burning. Unfortunately for Jerome, it would take a lot more than that to make him so utterly twisted. After all, the demolition of one thing only creates room for another.

“I won’t become like you, Jerome. I will stand beside you, help you tear down this city’s filth, but I will not be you.” 

He would stand beside his brother for as long as it was advantageous for him to do so and no longer. Since the death of the king and queen, the mob had gained more and more power. Jerome was right, something needed to be done. The playing field needed to be leveled for any new monarch to stand a fighting chance.

“Give it time,” Jerome said, sharp teeth showing in a wicked smile. “Let’s pay the Sirens a visit.”

 

The roof of the restaurant across from the infamous Sirens club offered Jeremiah a beautiful view of the streets of Gotham. Despite the hour, headlights still crawled through the streets. The city never truly slept, but this was as close as it got.

Faint music with a bass line he could feel in his chest pumped out of the club. It was almost drowned out by the honking of four car alarms – two each from the two wrecks, positioned one block on either side of the Sirens. Jeremiah had regretted orchestrating them, but such things had to be done. The Sirens controlled almost half the city, and even if he was able to escape, he couldn’t go back to the bunker without Ecco. The last time he saw her was when she cut his cable tie in the trailer, still under the watchful eye (and pocketwatch) of Jervis Tetch.

Jerome perched on the roof beside him, wings furled and tail stretched across the rooftop. His claws cracked the cement. He was impatient, Jeremiah could tell. Though the dragon thing was new to him and he hadn’t seen his brother in years, he remembered the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tap of one finger – claw – as he waited.

He wasn’t sure what they were waiting for, but it must have happened, because Jerome inhaled and, with a deep rumbling sound that seemed to come from his very core, blew a steady stream of fire at the club. Though the decorations were mostly metallic, the walls caught with surprising ease. Jeremiah watched as the sprinklers went off, drenching the patrons but not stopping the flames. When they heard sirens start to approach, fire trucks and ambulances that would be blocked by the “accidents” Jeremiah had created, Jerome roared at the sky and laughed.

 

Bruce ran behind Selina, cutting through alleys and the back rooms of bars too busy to notice them. The sight of the dragon soaring over the Sirens club, setting fire to any building unfortunate enough to be in its path, had caused enough accidents that driving was impossible. 

The block around the Sirens was pure chaos. Club patrons, most of whom were clearly intoxicated, spilled into the street as flames ate at the walls of every building. Charred frames of cars twisted in the intersections, blocking traffic. All around him, people screamed and tried to run, but some were too drunk and fell down on the sidewalks. The constant throng of people kept them on the ground. 

“Help these people get out of here,” he told Selina before unsheathing his sword. “Stop this, or I’ll make you!” He yelled at the dragon, which was still flying far above him.

The dragon laughed, a long low laugh that sent chills up Bruce’s spine. It was deeper than he remembered it, like it had been worn down over hot coals, but that laugh was unmistakable.

“You can’t stop me,” the dragon – Jerome – said, perching on a building the flames had not yet reached, though they undoubtedly would soon. “Look at you, standing down there with your sword. It’s a noble gesture, but ultimately meaningless. I could burn you, or stab you, or eat you, or slash you to pieces. In fact, I think I might.”

“Why don’t you come down here and try?” Bruce yelled. He didn’t know how Jerome had become a dragon, but even before this, he had been fixated on two things: killing Bruce and causing chaos. All this transformation had done was give him access to even more ways to do them, and he had to be stopped.

Jerome tilted his head, considering it. “You know, I think it’s funnier this way. You’re tiny, did you know that? So keep on waving that sword at me. It’s hilarious.”

Bruce looked around him. The fire was severely threatening the structure of the buildings behind him. With a loud cracking noise, the roof of the Sirens gave way, sending a plume of smoke into the night. Selina had gotten most of the crowd to a safer location, but she needed more time to completely clear the square.

“Where’s your brother, Jerome?”

Bruce still wasn’t sure what the situation was there. All he knew was that the bunker in the woods was clearly unoccupied and that Jerome didn’t seem to be working for anyone – Bruce doubted he would be willing to after Galavan had killed him.

“You did your homework, didn’t you?” Jerome smiled appreciatively. “Jim never found out about him, but somehow you did. How?”

“Where is he?” Bruce repeated. 

Jerome shrugged, smoke escaping from his snout. “He’s around, somewhere. But enough of that! Between the two of us,” he lowered his voice and leaned forward, though he was still on the top of a building, “he’s boring.”

 

Jeremiah leaned against the wall of an alley. He could hear his brother perched atop the building, talking with someone in the street. This hadn’t been part of Jerome’s plan, but Jerome’s plans had always been flexible. 

Making sure to stay in the shadows, Jeremiah walked to the end of the alley. He watched as Jerome jumped from the roof to the street below and began toying with the knight. Jerome lashed out with his tail, but the knight easily jumped over it. The knight slashed at Jerome, who breathed a thin trail of fire onto the blade, just enough to make the knight drop his sword as if burned.

Eventually, Jerome would get bored of this new prey. Jeremiah stood in the alley and watched the buildings crumble around them as the knight grew more tired and Jerome’s grin grew wider. Just as Jeremiah heard the beginnings of the low rumbling that meant Jerome had finally decided to just incinerate the knight, a shadow moved behind him. That shadow resolved into a girl as she ran at Jerome’s tail, silver flashing on her fingers as she clawed right through the scales. That flash of pain, which Jeremiah suspected Jerome had not felt since his death, distracted him enough for the knight to grab his sword and stab it into Jerome’s stomach.

Blood leaked around the edge of the wound. Jerome reflexively reached to touch it before seemingly remembering he no longer had fingers. 

“Give up now,” said the knight, who Jeremiah realized was much younger than he’d thought. His voice didn’t have the signature GCPD world-weariness, and his words practically radiated righteousness. Clearly, he hadn’t been in Gotham long.

Jerome started to laugh, but it devolved into a hiss of pain. “Surrender? To you? What has Gotham come to?”

“There’s still the chance to do the right thing, Jerome.” 

Jeremiah laughed. It had always been too late for his brother.

“Bruce, what are you doing?” The girl asked. “Kill him.”

“I won’t kill.”

The girl and Jeremiah rolled their eyes in unison. Holding some sort of precarious moral high ground wouldn’t help now. Jeremiah picked up a shard of glass from a shattered window as he left the alley. In the street, the heat from the fire was almost unbearable.

Hands shaking, Jeremiah walked up to where the optimistic knight and Jerome were still arguing. All conversation stopped when he reached up and slit Jerome’s throat.

“How could you?” Jerome choked out.

“I’m sorry, brother. You were a menace to society.”

The blood kept coming even after the life faded from Jerome’s eyes.

 

Bruce watched in shock as the dragon fell to the ground. The man who looked just like Jerome stood motionless, even as the blood started to reach his shoes.

“You killed him,” Bruce said, shocked.

Selina crossed her arms. “You’re his brother, aren’t you.”

Slowly, the man turned around. His resemblance to Jerome really was uncanny. If he didn’t know better, Bruce could have thought they were the same person. There were only two differences. This man wore a tan suit, something far too mundane for Jerome’s love of spectacle. But the most telling difference was in the eyes. Beneath his glasses, this man didn’t have the telltale glint of insanity. Instead, they shone with tears that wouldn’t fall. With an unmistakable humanity.

“Why did you kill him?” Bruce repeated.

“He wasn’t going to stop,” he said. “There is nothing you or anyone could have done to save him.”

“Why are you here?” Selina asked. “For all we know, you were in on it with him.”

Galavan really had made them all paranoid, Bruce thought. He noticed the man unconsciously tapping his middle finger on his thigh, leaving a stain of Jerome’s blood on the fabric.

“He wanted me to be,” the man admitted. “For all our similarities, I never shared my brother’s propensity for violence.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Bruce said. “Who are you? Why hasn’t anyone ever heard of you before? Why are you here now?”

The man took a deep breath. “My name is Jeremiah Valeska. I have tried to distance myself from my brother, because I never wished to tear down Gotham as he did. I am here now because he wanted me to be here enough to kidnap me and my bodyguard. She is being held captive by Jervis Tetch. Will you help me rescue her?”

“Bruce, don’t,” Selina whispered. “We can’t trust him.”

“What if he is telling the truth? We can’t just leave.”

“This is probably a trap!”

“If it is, I’m armed,” Bruce said. “He isn’t. And if someone really is in trouble, we have to help.”

“You and your hero complex,” Selina grumbled.

“I’m a knight, Selina. I have to be a hero.”

“One of these days you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Bruce turned to Jeremiah. “We’ll help you. Where did you say this bodyguard was being held?”

“Ecco is at the fairgrounds,” Jeremiah said. “But I should warn you. She is one of the best fighters I have ever seen, and she’s hypnotized.”

Selina shot a warning glance at Bruce, which he ignored.

“Let’s go, then.”

 

Jeremiah followed slightly behind Bruce and Selina as they entered the fairgrounds. There was too much going on, and he couldn’t work through it all fast enough. Everything had worked itself into a bulleted list in his head, repeating the same items over and over. _Jerome found me. I killed him. Ecco is in danger. This new knight has to be Bruce Wayne. I killed my brother. Bruce Wayne isn’t what I expected a prince to be. Jerome is dead._

Though he knew the site was abandoned, walking through the fairgrounds still stirred up unpleasant memories of his childhood. He expected to see his mother leaving any of the rusted trailers, makeup smeared on her face. The Jerome of their childhood lurked around every corner, proudly showing him a cat he had cut up.

He shook his head and focused on the task ahead of them. Finding and neutralizing Jervis Tetch. Bruce had already been upset with him for killing Jerome, a clearly unrepentant killer. If he killed Tetch, Bruce might never forgive him. Though he had only known him for a couple of hours, Jeremiah knew he did not want to lose Bruce.

Somehow, Bruce knew where he was going. He headed straight for the tent that had once been the big top. Over time, the canvas sides had been shredded by animals and faded in the sun. Jervis Tetch sat on a folding chair in the middle of the tent, looking bored. His top hat slid down to partially cover his eyes, and a corner of his coat dragged on the ground. Ecco sat cross-legged in the dirt beside him.

“So you killed Jerome,” Tetch said without looking up.

Selina cocked her head to the side, staring him down.

“Yes,” Jeremiah said. 

“You had it in you after all. I did wonder.” He glanced up at them, spinning a small circle of metal on his fingers in the same way a child spins a ruler around a pencil.

“Tetch, release Ecco and we’ll be on our way.” 

Jeremiah thought it was equally hilarious and adorable how Bruce thought saying that would make any difference.

“Why?” Tetch asked. 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Bruce said.

This was the same Bruce Wayne who had so successfully captured two of Gotham’s most notorious criminals? Jeremiah almost couldn’t believe it.

Tetch dropped whatever he had been spinning into a pocket. “Only now you see the barbarity of holding someone hostage?” He practically hissed, standing up sharply.

Jeremiah’s eyes darted from Tetch’s face to his pocket and back again. The way he glared at Bruce, almost like – 

“If you release Ecco and never hypnotize her again, I’ll tell you how to break him out.”

“Who?” Selina demanded as Bruce asked “You’ll what?”

“If you can do as you say, no longer will I make her stay.”

Jeremiah nodded. “I can.”

Bruce and Selina stared at him, confusion and anger evident on their faces.

Tetch turned to Ecco and pulled out his pocketwatch. “Can you hear the ticking?” He began.

When Ecco, incredibly disoriented, walked to Jeremiah’s side, he spoke. Jeremiah regretted it, but he figured that giving advice that Tetch should have thought of anyway was a lot less likely to make Bruce mad than murder, so he was going with it.

“Give Arkham a call. He’ll be able to just walk right out.”

 

“What did you do in there?” Selina asked.

They stood at the edge of the fairgrounds. Ecco was beside Jeremiah, and for the first time, he didn’t have to worry about the specter of his brother.

“I told him what he wanted to hear.”

“It looks like you didn’t need our help after all,” Bruce said, smiling. “That was incredibly quick thinking.”

Jeremiah smiled. Bruce was making him regret hiding from the world for all those years.

Selina coughed pointedly.

“We should go,” Bruce said.

“Thank you for helping us,” Jeremiah said. Just as Bruce and Selina turned around to leave, he spoke again. “Wait. I could, um,” he could feel his face turning red and resisted the urge to fidget with something, “I could, ah, take you out to dinner, Bruce. To say thank you.”

Selina looked at Bruce and whistled, laughing softly.

Bruce was almost as red as Jeremiah when he said “That sounds nice.”

**Author's Note:**

> characterization? I don't know her.  
> I'd like to clarify that while yes, this is pre-spray jeremiah, I've always headcanoned him as having been that calculating and cunning the whole time, though he wouldn't have lost his mind and created no man's land/killed a bunch of people for no reason without the insanity gas (or the threat of a large dragon looming over him).  
> comments and kudos make my day! feel free to come screech about this show with me on my tumblr, @alpacasandravens


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